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Naia’s cheeks reddened, and she elbowed him in the ribcage. “Stop laughing! You’re causing them to stare even more.”

Ronin grunted, grabbing at the spot she hit, still shaking with light laughter.

“They’re not bowing to me.” He reached up and playfully tugged at the ends of her strands. “They’re bowing to their goddess.”

She gaped at him in confusion.

Ronin winked, clearly finding satisfaction in her response.

Before she could voice her thoughts, they approached a group of people surrounding a tall fire, talking amongst themselves. The vibrant flames popped and danced, and the light breeze carried the smell of firewood into Naia’s hair.

“We have a guest tonight!” Soph clapped with a jump in her step. She walked over to a tote filled with plastic bags of fluffy, white cylinders and metal sticks.

Heads turned in Naia and Ronin’s direction. Realization settled across their faces, one after another. Men and women, she did not know the names of, bowed to her with a profound sense of loyalty that made absolutely no sense.

Who was she to them but an unknown goddess, a myth?

“Everyone, this is Naia.” Ronin’s hand rested on the small of her back. “Goddess of the Blood Heretics.”

Her breath caught at the title. Tears stung the back of her nose, brimming in her eyes. The cacophony of hi’s and hello’s made her grin like a happy, soddened fool.

Goddess of the Blood Heretics.

She repeated the title like a beautiful lyric of a song stuck in her head, blinking away her tears.

Soph handed her the metal stick with a marshmallow on its tip. “I prefer mine burnt. What about you?”

Naia stared in fascination at the white treat. “I am not sure. I’ve never tried one.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Another girl stepped up from the circle, her long, black hair in tiny braids reaching down to her waist. “I’ll show you how to get it gooey without frying it to hell.”

Ronin gently eased her towards the others, stealing a quick kiss on the back of her head.

Naia rolled the globe-like object from each of her hands as she inspected the pin prick dots on its glossy surface. “A bomb?” she echoed, disbelieving and skeptical, unsure how it would work.

Avi sniffed the inside of a jar of frog legs, made a face, and tossed them into the bubbling cauldron in the center of the room.

“A magical one,” he said.

The steam rising from the concoction smelled like Alke’s bird piss and three-day-old raw salmon.

“How does it work?” She stepped away from the cauldron when a floating bottle labeled goat tongues flew past her shoulder. One of the soft pink organs dropped into the mixture.

Ronin sat in a chair on the other side of Avi’s cauldron. “We fill them with my blood, and when they detonate, they bring down any gods in the vicinity,” he said.

“How many are you planning on filling?” she asked.

“Considering we have buckets full of his blood stored, I’d say as many as we need to.” Theon leaned against the workbench covered with dried herbs, half-melted candles, and miscellaneous potion bottles with labels Naia intentionally avoided reading. He paid her no attention, scrolling through his phone.

“Those fuckers hunting you down don’t stand a chance.” Avi’s confidence was, unfortunately, not contagious.

He was too busy reading through the levitating grimoire near his lap to notice the look of disapproval Naia gave him.

Ronin didn’t miss it, though.

“I do bloodletting every day,” he reminded her. “Blood not used for making beer, we’ll use in the bombs. Select members of the Blood Heretics have access to them, if your sister shows up, they will set them off.”

Naia chewed on the inside of her cheek.